Painted lady of the bird world

AN article by Jim Fox in the current issue of BirdWatch Ireland’s magazine Wings, brings to mind a self-effacing bird which we have all but forgotten.

The common quail, a dumpy little summer visitor of wheat-fields and grasslands, is scarcer even than the corncrake or the partridge.

Not much bigger than a blackbird, it’s a member of the pheasant family and a relative of the domestic chicken, the most successful bird of all time which outnumbers humans by four to one.

The pheasants have among their ranks some of the world’s most brilliantly plumaged birds. One of the tribe, the flamboyant peacock, surpasses all rivals in the extravagance of its attire and it’s noisy as well. The quail goes to the other extreme. Skulking about in long grass in dull cryptic-brown plumage, it’s a very difficult bird to spot, although the male’s quiet ‘wet my lips’ call reveals its presence. He is looking for a mate and, when he gets one, the broadcast ceases. Prolonged calling usually means that there’s a shortage of females.

In another break with pheasant tradition, the quail migrates; it’s the only one of our game-birds to do so. Southern Europe and Africa are the winter haunts but there’s another quail population south of the equator. Northern birds probably interbreed with ones from Madagascar and South Africa but, as yet, this hasn’t been demonstrated.

The quail thrived in Ireland long ago. It was more common, according to some commentators, even than the partridge. Both species were victims of the Famine and of the Industrial Revolution. Richard Ussher and Robert Warren claimed that the little potato plots of the pre-Famine period suited quail and that their disappearance following the great catastrophe of the 1840s made life difficult for the bird. With the development of railways and steamships, cereals could be imported from all over the world and Irish tillage farmers found it difficult to compete in the British market. The new modes of transport meant live cattle could be exported so cereal growing areas were converted to pasture. The habitat on which quail depended was drastically reduced. By 1880, it was thought, the bird no longer bred here.

The species, however, has survived, although its visits are erratic. According to quail expert John Marchant, “there are probably no British or Irish localities where quail are truly annual”. In some years the bird seems to be completely absent, while in others there’s a mini-invasion. Jim Fox gives the following list of ‘quail years’; 1870, 1893, 1947, 1953, 1964 and 1989. He is unsure as to whether 2011 should be added to the list.

The first BTO/IWC Atlas of Breeding Birds, covered the summers of 1968 to ’72. Quail bred around Dundalk, in Wexford and close to Athy, Co Kildare. When the Atlas survey was repeated 20 years later, Athy was the only area with a cluster of records. Jim Fox, who has “lived for the last 44 years in the centre of a farm regularly visited by quail”, heard the bird in each of 37 years and saw adult quail during 33 of them. ‘Bevies’ were recorded in four summers and young birds were seen in 13.

With such a turbulent history and a decline which set in so long ago, it may seem odd that we still have quail in Ireland. However, this bird’s migratory behaviour is rather unusual.

Its movement patterns resemble those of migrant butterflies, such as the red admiral and painted lady. These species breed in southern Europe. Their offspring move north where they breed in the same year. Adult quail, having nested in the south, may move north and do so again. The chicks mature quickly; ones fledged early in the season can breed in the same year. Youngsters from nests in North Africa turn up in Italy each summer. Quail years, therefore, may be ones in which the birds breed well in the south, following which they and their newly fledged youngsters head northwards in search of further territories. According to the BTO Migration Atlas, 50% of the quail breeding in France in 1987, a quail year there, had hatched earlier that season.

Not surprisingly, given its precarious lifestyle, quail life expectancy is low. The oldest ringed one only reached the age of eight. Clutches must be large to compensate for the high death-rates, so there may be up to 18 eggs in a nest.